Jak's Opinions on Haven City
by JakLover
Summary: Jak talks about Haven's rules and basically everything that could possible aggrivate a hero. Rated for langauge and some stuff Jak says. Boys will be boys, or morely considered Men will be arrogant complainers.
1. Smoking and Traffic Accidents

**Sorry I havn't uploaded more chapters on Warriors: Shadow and Light anytime soon. I'm working on chapter 3...or 4...whichever one it is. But THIS story came to me at 2 AM in the morning when I was on the phone with my friend Kayti, she was talking about smokers and how she hated the government and stuff like that. It was funny, so I wrote THIS. Basicly this story is Jak's opinions about Haven City's smokers and traffic accidents. I read it to Kayti that day after I wrote it, she was laughing her ass off. But yeah, Read and Reiew**

**JakLover**

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**.Jak's Opinions on Traffic Accidents in Haven City.**

Hello people, as all my friends know, I've saved this planet more than just a few times, I'm a hero, yes. So I'm living up to one of my attributes and going to complain...about Haven City. Heres an example of a problem Haven has come acrossed..._'THANK YOU FOR NOT SMOKING_.'...Now, speaking strictly for myself, I find nothing wrong with the phrase _'NO SMOKING'_. It's simple, it's direct, it's firm. No smoking! Any questions? Fine.

But _'Thank You For Not Smoking'_. First of all, it's weak. And second, for Mar's sake, why are you thanking them? It's as if you think they're doing you a favor by not giving you emphysema. Personally, ifI were trying to discourage people from smoking, my sign would be a little different. In fact, I might even go too far in the opposite direction. My sign would say something like,

_"Smoke if you wish. But if you do, be prepared for the following series of events: First, we will confinscate your cigarette and extinguish it somewhere on the surface of your skin. We will then run your nicotine-stained fingers through a paper shredder and throw them into the street, where rabid dogs will swallow and then regurgitate them into the sewers, so that infected rats can further soil them before they're flushed out to sea with the rest of the city's filth. After such time, we will systematically seek out your friends and loved ones and destroy their lives."_

Wouldn't you like to see a sign like that? I'll bet a lot of smokers would think twice about lighting up near a sign like that. You have to be direct. Thank you for not smoking in simply embarrassing. Personally, I think all of this upgraded, feel-good langauge is a further sign of Haven's increasing uncertainty about itself... Now onto another topic:

**TRAFFIC ACCIDENTS:**

**Never Hang Around**

I don't often write about my own experiences; it's not my style. But I had a recent incident ona Zoomer that I'd like to tell you about, And before I begin, there are a couple things you ought to know about me: I drive kind of recklessly, I take alot of chances, I never maintain my Zoomers. I don't believe in the traffic laws. And so, because of these practices, I tend to have what a picky person would probably refer to as alot of accidents.

And wouldn't you know last week I hit a yakkow.

Or, possibly, I ran over a very large man wearing a yakkowskin coat. I'm not sure, really, because I didn't stop. That's another rule of mine: I never stop when I have a accident. Do you? No. You can't. Who has time? Not me.

If I hit something, or run something over, I keep moving! Especially if I've injured someone. I refuse to involve myself in other's people's injuries. I'm not a doctor, I've had no medical training; I'm just another guy, out, driving around looking for a little fun! And I can't be stopping for everything!.

Listen, folks. Let's be logical about it. Lets say you wereflying in your Zoomer and you stop at the scene of an accident, all you do is add to the confusion. These people you ran over have enough troubles of their own without you stopping and making things worse.

Think about it - they've just been involved in a major traffic accident! The_last_ thing they need is for you to stop, get out of your Zoomer, go over to the wreckage and start bothering them with stupid questions: "Are you hurt?"

Well, of course they're hurt. Look at all the blood! You just hit them with a ton and a half of steel- of course they're hurt! Leave these people alone. Havn't you done enough? For once in your life do a decent thing - don't get involved. Look at it this way, it's none of your business in the first place; the whole thing took place_outside_ your zoomer. Legally speaking, these people were not even on your property at the time you ran them over. They were standing in the street; that's city property. You aren't responsible! If they don't like it, let 'em sue Baron Praxis!...And besides, the whole thing is over now; it happened_back there, behind you_! For Mar's sake, stop living in the past. Do yourself a favor, count your blessings, be glad it wasn't you. As it is, there's probably a substantial dent in your fender. So be satisfied, my friend, you got off easy. And I'll give you a truely practical reason_not_ to stop. If you_do_ stop, sooner or later the KG are going to show up. Is that what you want? To waste even_more_ of your time, standing around with a bunch of worthless civil servants, filling out forms, answering a lot of foolish questions...lying to the authorities. And one more thing: Didn't anyone ELSE see this accident? Are you the only one who can provide information? Surely the people who you ran over caught a glimpse of it at the last moment. _So_, let_them_ tell police what happened. They certainly had a better view of it than you did...Theres just no sense in having two conflicting stories floating around about the same dumb-ass traffic accident. Things are bad enough: People are dead, families have been destroyed, it's time to GET MOVING! Chances are you're late for dinner as it is...

Now, folks. There are two sides to this. Helping people by leaving them alone when they're injured is one thing, that's my altruistic side; people need to be self-reliant, and I want to do what I can to foster that. But it's to often hard for me to drive away from a nice fiery accident scene, because I have a self-indulgent side, and that needs to be honored too.

And so, on the other hand, if I'm out flying, enjoying a lovely day, and I_see_ a traffic accident-one I'm not involved in-I stop immediately! I wanna get a good look at what's goin' on. I enjoy that sort of thing. If people are injured, I wanna take a look! I am like a fly drawn to a Bug-Zapper light.

Of course, the KG don't like that. They say you're rubbernecking and blocking traffic, I tell em':

"Never mind that rubberneckin' shit, I wanna take a look!"

My Philosophy: _I'm never too busy that I can't stop to enjoy someone else's suffering. I'm looking for a little entertainment. To me, traffic accidents are more than one form of entertainment_.

You want to hear my dream accident? Two KG Cruisers full of gaurds and a chicken truck gettin' hit by a circus train in front of the bazzar. ENTERTAINMENT! I'm lookin' for an antique lamp stickin' out of a Gaurd's ass. If I'm gonna take the time to stop, I expect a couple of fuckin' laughs.

And if the traffic situation is such that I can't quite see what's going on-can't get a good enough look-I'm not the least bit shy about asking the KG to bring the bodies over a little closer to the Zoomer.

_"Pardon me, Officer. Would you guys mind dragging that twisted-looking chap over here a little closer to the Zoomer? My girlfriend has never seen anyone shaped quite like that. Look at that, Hun! Those are his testicles hanging from the rearview mirror. Thank you, Officer, that will be all now, you can throw him back into the pile. We'll be moving along."_

And off we go, out into the City looking for a little fun. Perhaps a flatbed zoomer loaded with elven cadavers will explode in front of the Stadium.

One can only dream and hope.

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**(pauses and waits for readers reaction) Umm...yeah..Did you like it? The was my full-fledged attempt at humor. I hope it was funny. I'm not going to add to this...but then again...Maybe I will...Woooo, you'll never know now!. Wooohooo!**

**R&R**

**Luv Ya'll**

**JakLover**


	2. News, Media and the Boogie Man

**Well thanks for reviewing, with like...3 reviews, yeah, 3...lovely. I guess I updated for you all anyway. Well this story is gonna be having a title change. Cuzit is turning into more of Jak complaining about Haven City than just traffic shit! So yeah, I've decided if I get enough reviews for each chapter. Then I'll post another chapter, fair enough? Yes? Good. **

**Enjoy this next chapter. Dark Jak makes an appearance..or a thought...whatever you want to refer to it as!**

**JakLover**

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**Chapter 2: News and Media**

Hey everyone, Jak here, and I hope you good, loyal Haven Citizens understand that in the long run the MetalHead extremists are going to win. Because you can't beat numbers, and you can't beat fanaticism - the willingness to die for an idea.

A City like ours, preoccupied with Stadium Races, dune-buggies, guns, jacuzzis, microwave ovens, pornography, lap dances, massage parlors, escort services, tasers, alcohal, thongs and Oder Eaters doesn't have a prayer - not even a good, old fashioned, Mar's prayer - against a billion fanatics who hate this City, detest it's materialism and have nothing really to lose. Maybe 200 years ago, but not today when germs and chemicals and nuclear materials are for sale everywhere.

People who don't give a shit and have nothing to lose will always prevail over people who are fighting for some vague sentiment scrawled on a wall in a forgotten tomb. Folks, they're gonna getcha; and it ain't gonna be pleasant.

We can't drop a five-thousand-pound bomb on every one of them. They will either run all over all over us, in trying, they will turn us into even bigger monsters than we already are!

And don't get all excited about this goofy idea,"the spread of democracy." No matter who Haven City puts in charge to bring peace and order in Haven or Spargus or anywhere else, those people will be killed. It's that simple. Anyone who supports this City will be killed. Peace and order will not be tolerated. Start saving your cash for the black market, folks, you're gonna need it.

I've already got $2.41 in my pocket.

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UNCALLED-FOR EDITORIAL COMMENTS:

**Who's Responsible For This?**

When reporting a bombing by some radical group, the news media in Haven City will often inform us that,"_No one has claimed responsiblity."_ Why is this wording used instead of, "_No one has taken credit."_ To save the feelings of the dead people's relatives? The people who did the bombing surely see it as credit. Let them have their moment in the sun. Look at all the trouble they went to.

**Unfortunately, They All Got Out Alive.**

Here's another gratuitous editorial appendage often heared on my TV-News coverage of a fire or an accident: "_Luckily, no one was hurt."_

I consider those to be editorial comments. After all, I may not think it's such good news that no one was hurt. I'm entitled to decide for myself whether or not injuries to strangers are good or bad news. I may prefer hearing,"_It's a shame no one was hurt."_ It's entirely possible. Please save the commentary for the editoral page.

**Put On A Happy Face**.

And I could also do without these grim, mock-serious facial expressions and sad voices the television-news people affect when reporting these so-called tragedies. Ashelin Praxis is one of the worst offenders. She lowers her voice dramatically and puts on this really sad face and tells you all about the baby who died in a washing machine. If you weren't listening carefully, you'd think the goddamn "tradegy" happened to her. Is that good? I don't think so. Just let me have the news, please; I'll get Torn to handle the sad faces.

**Thoughts On "Thoughts"**

Another empty sentiment concerning the death of people; you hear it on the news, and you hear it in real life: "_Our thoughts are with the family."_ What exactly does that mean? Sympathies I can understand; prayers, as ineffective as they are, I can understand? Like,"_Gee, he's dead"? _How does that help? When first reporting on Baron Praxis's parkinson's disease, one newslady announced that,"_Everyone's thoughts are with our beloved Baron."_ Well, I'm by no means happy that he's sick, and he happeneds to be one of the few people I genuinely don't like. But to be perfectly honest with you, for most of the day my thoughts were definitely not with Baron. I wish him well, and I admire the way he copes (shows Praxis dazed and highly confused roaming the halls of the palace. Errol following him at a fair distance with a frying pan.). But at any given moment, my thoughts are probably on pussy.

Now as you have now had a glimpse into my mind, yet again. My darker side would like to add something he's been wanting to say for awhile. Well, here he is:

**GOODNIGHT, TIMMY**

**Well hello, I'm sure some of my fans out there know me very well. My own worshipers as well. Here's a good way to provide some entertainment for your four-year-old when you tuck him in at night, and at the same time, stimulate his imagination. And he will forever love you 'till the end.**

**"_I came up to say goodnight and tuck you in, Timmy. You had a big day, so make sure you get a good night's sleep. And don't forget to watch out for the Boogie Man. Remember what Daddy and I told you about the Boogie Man? How he kills little boys? What do you think, Timmy? Is the Boogie Man here in your room, hiding somewhere? Is he in the closet? Is he going to jump out and kill you when I leave the room? He might; you never know. Maybe he's under the bed. He likes to hide there, too. He might claw his way though the mattress and kill you. Don't let him kill you, Timmy. You know what he does? He sticks a sharp metal tube up your nose and sucks the fluid out of your brain. It hurts a lot._**

_**"I'm going to turn out the light now and leave you alone in the dark. All by yourself. And I don't want to hear a peep out of you. If I hear any noise coming out of this room, I'm going to come up here and beat you. Try to get a good night's sleep. By the way, Daddy saw a monster walking up and down the hall last night. The monster had a piece a paper in his hand with your name on it. Night-Night Timmy, Night-Night."**_

**_Life could only be so sweet._**

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**Well? Was it as funny or close to as funny as the last chapter? Well, I'd like some more of those 3 to 5 sentence reviews, those are always a treat to read. 'gives me the inspiration which I need to keep going! ai'll update and edit the last chapter cuz I forgot to space between the italics because I forgot to add them when I was typing it. So yuppers. **

**READ & REVIEW!**

**JakLover**

**P.S. Ignore these four words.**


	3. Flames, Good Cheers, and Boxing

**So I'm sorry for the incrediblly ungodly lateness of this chapter. I feel bad. Even though I have a new chapter up on it. So you all can be happy. hah. Not likely I bet. Anyway. I hope you enjoy it. Read and Review. Thanks for commenting the other chapters when I didn't have any inspiration. I just pulled myself outta the gutter and made this chapter. It's a little profound. But oh well. lol I hope it doesn't get deleted. My bad. lol.**

**-JakLover**

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_Jak - Quite frankly the unlikelyness that this chapter will last a feeble week on here will be completely my bad. Even though JakLover did type this. Be aware of the ..um.. profanity in it. It's all in good humor though. _

_But for all you people out there who have wondered what has happened to my beloved Crocodog, heres the story behind it all._

**PUTTING THE CROCODOG OUT**

It was nearly eleven-thirty, and I had just put the Crocodog out. But it hadn't been easy. He had burned more fiercely than I anticipated.

The poor thing had caught fire earlier in the evening when, in an effort to test his reflexes. I had thrown his favorite toy metalhead into the fireplace, and instinctively he raced after it.

"WHOOOOOOOM!!!" you might say.

At first, I let him burn awhile just to teach him a lesson, and to peel off a couple layers of the mud, mange and matted hair which seemed lately, sadly, to have robbed him of a step or two. But I must admit I was also quite fascinated by the many spectacular colors he began to glow with. Colors, no doubt, owed in part to the countless hours he spent killing time in the toxic dump next door. It was quite a show. In fact, I saw several pyrotechnic effects I dare to say have not been witnessed since the Baron's Palace exploded during the Bicentennial.

Then, as the canine conflagration began to burn itself out and I could see the clear, stark outline of his hairless body, he began to emit a dense cloud of smoke, along with some other gaseous substance which I can only describe as "dog steam". Acting quickly, I covered him with several cheap sweaters Keira had bought me that no longer fit and pounded him gently, although not without anger, for just over an hour, or until the smoke died down and he stopped his by then bothersome screeching.

At that point, energized, apparently, by a sudden burst of pain and fear, he leapt several feet into the air, went stiff and spead-eagled and began to spin violently, giving off an ominous low-fequency hum and circled the cieling fan in an elliptical orbit. He circled for the better part of an hour. Finally, exhausted, or, I thought, maybe dead, he suddently went limp, his orbit decayedand he smashed into an eighteenth-century breakfont, landing heavily on the floor. For three days he lay motionless. When finally he awoke, I opened a can of Bits O' Baron and fed him by hands.

I can tell you this: Althought he looked quite unusual, and smelled godawful, I was glad I could be there for him when he needed me.

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**GOOD CHEER**

4 Years ago, two lovely girls in Spargus City were kind enough to perform this battle cheer for me, and in Daxter's radio station I used it as a interesting sign-off when I was replacing Daxter for a few days. In fact, I found it to be a big crowd pleaser at weddings, baptisms and first communions, as wll Here it is.

Chant it in good health:

**Rat shit! Bat Shit!**

**Dirty ol' twat!**

**Sixty-nine assholes**

**Tied in a knot!**

**Hooray!**

**Lizard shit!**

**Fuck!**

_Let's go over that again, this time with a few comments:_

**Rat shit! Bat shit!**

_(How nice to begin with a reference to nature.)_

**Dirty ol' twat!**

_(A perfectly normal sprts reference, as far as I'm concerned.)_

**Sixty-nine assholes**

**Tied in a knot!**

_(No, I don't know what that means, either.)_

**Hooray!**

_(There's the cheer part.)_

**Lizard shit!**

_(Back to nature once again.)_

**Fuck!**

_(And we end on an uplifting note.)_

_Now here's the happy postscript: About ten years later, I met a guy named Errol who gave me the second verse to the cheer. I hope those Spargus girls will see this and accept it as my way of saying thanks:_

**Eat, bite, fuck, suck!**

**Nibble, gobble, chew!**

**Finger fuck! Hair pie!**

**Dick, cunt, screw!**

**Hooray!**

**Bat fuck!**

**Blow me!**

_Let's go over that again._

**Eat, bite, fuck, suck!**

_(Once again, off to an excellent start.)_

**Nibble, gobble, chew!**

_(I notice verbs are more prominent this time.)_

**Finger fuck! Hair pie!**

**Dick, cunt, screw!**

_(More good sports references)_

**Hooray!**

_(Can't have a cheer without it.)_

**Bat fuck!**

_(Truly an interesting thought.)_

**Blow me!**

_(Once again, ending on an uplifting note.)_

Cheers!

**KEEPIN' IT REAL IN THE RING**

Another area of speech that could benefit from a bit more realism would be those announcements that are made just before a boxing match in the Hip Hog Heaven Saloon:

"Ladies and gentlemen, the main event of the evening: twelve rounds of heavyweight boxing. In this corner, from Cornhole, Spargus, wighing two hundred pounds and wearing solid white trunks, an utter and complete loser who is wanted in six state for crimes against the animal kingdom. Considered a complete scumbag by his family, he once fucked his sister at a church picnic and forced her to walk home alone. Also, on at least four occasions he has taken out his dick at the circus and waved it at the trapeze lady. Here is, He-e-e-n-r-y-y Gonz-a-a-a-lez!"

"In the other corner, wearing a pair of lame, out-of-style zebra-skin shorts that he found on th street, from Sweatband, Haven, an unattractive and disturbed young man who, by court order, is not permitted to be alone for more than two minutes at a time. In and out of the finest sixteen Haven City mental institutions over the years, he is a dangerous sociopath who once killed a nun for blocking his view. He has been legally barred from more than fifteen hundred bars in the Haven City area, and recently, while visiting a supermarket, he forced a fat woman to blow him in the meat section. Here he is, Ma-a-a-tty Mu-u-u-urphy-y-y!"

The fighters move out to the center of the ring to have the boxing rules recited to them.

"All right, boys, you know the rules: No biting, scratching, clawing or tripping. No yanking dicks. No grabbing the other guy's testicles and snapping them up and down. No using a small screwdriver to punch holes in the other guy's neck during clinches. And if your gonna call the other guy's mother a diseased, two-dollar whore, please, in the interest of accuracy, use her full name.

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**JakLover: Hope you all liked it. Do comment, give me some ideas or something. My attention span is crappying out again.**

**More to come. But don't get your hopes up. Not anytime soon.**

**Luv Ya'll.**


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